


Alone Time

by iioatsu



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Bathroom Sex, Crying, Drinking, Fluff, Incest, M/M, Masturbation, Romance, Substance Abuse, Underage Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 06:09:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5279720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iioatsu/pseuds/iioatsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been months since Rick got out of the intergalactic jail, and much to his family's dismay, he refuses to talk about what happened in there or how he got out so early.<br/>Morty was the happiest to have Rick back, but Rick completely closed himself off from everyone, including his grandson. Distraught, Morty tries to talk to Rick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Intro

**Author's Note:**

  * For [radishwine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/radishwine/gifts).



> First of a lot of sin I'll be posting ;> I didn't expect this to escalate into chapters, and I'm not completely committed to it just yet-- sorry about that!
> 
> Anyways this is a gift (art trade perhaps? ;3) for one of my favorite artists, radishwine.

“Rick, w-why can’t I stay with you tonight? You promised me yesterday,” Morty whined, clutching onto Rick’s dirty lab coat and refusing to let go. Rick had been like this ever since he escaped that galactic prison. He didn’t like talking about why the police weren’t coming after him, or how he even escaped. In fact, Rick didn’t like conversing any more in general, contrast to how he used to be before he turned himself into the Intergalactic Federation.

“L-l-look, Morty. I don’t have time to keep up with e-every stupid thing you make me promise. I got things to do, places to see,” Rick waved his arm in front of the two, gesturing to Morty an imaginary scene of foreign aliens and planets. Morty scrunched his eyebrows at Rick’s vague response and watched the old man pulled a beaten wielding mask over his face and picked up some pieces of misshapen metal.

“But, Rick, you- you told me that today we would-"

An annoyed growl emanated from the older man’s throat, warning Morty of Rick’s impending aggravation. Morty shut his mouth in fear that Rick would up and leave again, but didn’t let go of the scientists’ coat. The two watched blue and yellow sparks fly from the melting chrome in Rick’s hands, each in their own world. From behind the mask came a loud, arrogant snuff. Morty looked up at Rick and narrowed his eyes. Rick believed he had won the argument, but Morty wasn’t ready to let Rick’s habit of broken promises pass, not this this time, and yanked on his sleeves to garner his grandfather's attention back to him. 

“Rick, I'm s-serious here! You've been so distant ever since you came home, and you don't talk about what happened there. Why are you like this, why are you so-”

Rick dropped the materials to noisily clatter onto the garage table and pulled away his wielding mask, his expression contort with aggravation.

“Jesus, Morty, don’t you get it? I don’t have time t-to baby-sit you 24/7. Let me fuckin' live, kid,” Rick barked, irritated that his grandson wouldn’t leave him alone. Morty was being so needy recently, and it made pressured Rick to do things he didn't want to do.

But Morty didn't know this, or why Rick has been constantly angry and irritated with him. So Morty stared at Rick hurt by his coldness and stood there, anguished, taking a moment to try and string together a cohesive sentence. “You-You don't really feel like that, Rick. You've just been drinking to much again-”

“For Christ's sake, Morty! I do feel that way. I feel like you're a needy little brat who can't go a day without opening his legs for his grandpa. Do you know how disgusting that is, Morty? B-banging your grandpa every chance you got?” Rick shrugged off Morty’s hands and pushed him away, not even sparing his grandson a second glance. Morty let go of Rick’s lab coat and stumbled back a few steps from Rick’s slight shove. He wanted to be angry, he wanted to be furious. But Morty could only choke down tears that began forming at the corners of his brown eyes.

“Fine, Rick! G-Go on ahead and pay attention to y-y-your stupid machines! Next time you need something, good luck getting help! I'm leaving!” Morty yelled, expecting his voice to come out stronger, firmer, but only came out as a shaky whisper. Wiping his eyes with his yellow shirt, Morty left the blue-haired man to tinker with his toys and stormed out the garage, his emotions a complete fucking mess.

The door slammed shut behind Morty, leaving Rick alone with his trinkets. "Good-fucking-riddance!" Rick yelled, but Morty was already long gone. He rubbed his temples turned around, his back facing the table. Sliding to the floor, his back against the table's legs, Rick looked to his left and reached over to grab an opened beer bottle on the garage floor. Without a second thought, Rick chugged it down to try and drown out the feeling of guilt. The feeling of being a complete ass, the feeling of his life becoming a complete train wreck. 

“Fuck, Morty…” Rick placed his face in his hands and groaned. It's been five beers already and he couldn't get Morty out of his head, his shaking frame, his sweet voice, his wet, doe eyes.  
“You don’t know anything.”


	2. Hours After, Where Were You?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no words besides here's some more sin. Next chapter will be up soon

It was 3 am when Morty realize he couldn’t sleep for the life of him. Everything seemed to be wrong, the blankets felt frozen against his legs, the moon illuminated his messy room keeping him wide awake, and he was hungry- the list could go on. He wanted Rick to be next to him, murmuring in his sleep and refusing to let go of Morty’s hand.

He let a broken sigh follow his exhale. Morty just wanted to sleep, he truly did, especially after such a huge argument with Rick.

Morty watched each speck of dust float before his eyes, each piece lit by the moonlight. Ever since the two’s argument, he hadn't heard anything from Rick, who refused to come up to apologize. He knew it was stupid, the argument, but Morty refused to be sorry. He shifted his body up to lean against his bed’s headboard feeling sick in his chest. Morty didn’t know what exactly happened in that jail, and he should just be lenient with Rick’s constant mood swings. But still---

The boy sucked in a sharp breath and wrapped the covers over his shoulders reminiscent of a cape and sunk into the heavy covers. Morty didn’t think he was in the wrong, he just wanted time to spend with Rick. It’s been months since they last kissed, let alone fuck till Morty could barely walk straight. He missed the intimate talks between them, how close they were right after Rick came home.

Morty thought back to the months when Rick seemed so much warmer, so much more open to both emotionally and physically to him. How Rick slipped his hands under Morty’s tight jeans, how his tongue rolled over Morty’s skkin before the break of dawn, how Rick’s thin fingers ran up and down his naval making Morty buck his hips to meet his grandpas. How Rick suddenly closed himself away from Morty too soon after their reunion.

Absentmindedly, Morty guided his hand underneath his thin pajama bottoms and ran it over his semi-hard length. 

Rick’s sweat, his musk, the way Morty could fit his hands in the crook of Rick’s back as the two pressed against each other. A bead of sweat trickled down Morty’s face as he tilted his head back and cried Rick’s name aloud, recounting every memory of Rick with every rough stroke.

“Fu-Fuck, Rick, I’m gonna-”

Morty slid another hand down his pants and pressed it against his tight hole, swirling a finger around the entrance before burying his fingers in, knuckle-deep. It was nowhere near Rick’s length, but Morty didn’t care anymore. He just wanted to feel something again.

A hot, violent shiver swirled through Morty’s lower body as he began moving both hands in sync; up and down, in and out.

A gasp escaped Morty’s lips, his eyes rolling back pleasure. Morty bucked his hips forward in his fisted hand and pumped as fast as he could, trying to jerk out every drop of desire for his crude grandfather in his orgasm. 

“R-rick- agh-” Morty cried and bit his lip to hold back his moans, his hips twitching his hands, both his cock and ass extremely sensitive to his touch. The euphoric feeling had pulled him to the edge of bliss, but as soon as the pleasure came, it left and in its place came a wave of guilt. Feeling the sticky mess in his pajamas forced Morty to close his eyes in disappointment; using Rick as his masturbation material didn’t help.

Morty stumbled out of his damp covers, his hand slick with his own cum. It was still hot, almost (revoltingly) refreshing against the cold air of his room. Without allowing his mind to chastise him for being a disgusting, kinky teenager, Morty noisily shuffled to the bathroom across the hall, sleepily bumping into the door several times before forcing it open. 

Once inside, he made his way across the room, cranked the shower knob all the way up and plopped himself onto the toilet seat. Drooping his head between his knees, Morty felt a migraine eat at his mind, making it feel like it was splitting in two. Frustrated with his weakened state, Morty yanked the dirty pajamas off his and threw them at the dirty laundry basket across from him, his soiled boxers coming off last to sit on the heap of clothes. Memories of their argument flashed back into Morty’s mind creating a keep frown to spread across his lips. He closed his teary eyes for a moment and willed away Rick’s words. Morty held his breath and silently cried, trying to remember all of the times when Rick was sweet, but few came to mind.

Steam had begun to rise from the shower when a sharp knock alerted Morty woke from his stupor. 

“Hey…kid,” A familiar, raspy voice emanated from beyond the cheap wooden door.

Morty caught his breath and abruptly sat up. Tears threatened to spill over, making Morty force a hand to stifle his sobs.  
“Open up, Morty, I can hear you crying.”

Morty didn’t answer but instead rose out of his seat and nimbly moved to the sink to scrub his pale hands, erasing all evidence of his earlier, dirtier act. The boy looked up for a moment to see himself in the foggy mirror, eyebags heavy and hair disheveled.  
Morty grimaced at his shit appearance and scrubbed harder, angry at how much Rick had affected him with his addictive habits and abusive words. Rick tried calling out for Morty again, but his words were slurred making all comprehension impossible. Morty heard Rick quietly curse the alcohol.

“Morty, please,” Rick repeated, this time his voice much more malleable, feeble, almost desperate. A lump formed in Morty’s throat and he turned off the sink, waiting to hear another sound.  
It was quiet, making Morty believe that Rick had left when a loud thump against the door echoed into the bathroom. Rick's rampant knocking became louder and louder but he didn’t repeat himself again. The sound of Rick slamming his fist against the door worried Morty; he would have no idea how to explain to his family why he was naked with Rick locked out the bathroom door. Irritated and torn, Morty wiped away the tears and to his dismay, tugged on the dirty boxers so he could stomp to the door and swing it open.

“Come here,” Morty irately ushered, dragging the old man out the hallway and onto the tiled bathroom floor. Carefully closing the door, Morty pushed his grandpa against the sink cabinets, curling a fist around his dirty white lab coat. It was quiet between the two, like an invisible cat had seized both their tongues. Rick looked down at his trembling, half-naked grandson and raised an eyebrow at his stained white underwear.

“What’s goi-going on here, Morty? Having yourself some pity masturbation?”

Morty glanced down and embarrassingly tried crossing his legs to hide the mess, but it was too late; Rick found out. Vexed, Morty attempted to steer the conversation away from the obvious stain and tightened his grip on Rick’s coat, towing Rick closer so that they were barely inches from each other’s face.

“You sm-smell disgusting. You’ve been drinking all night again, haven’t you Rick?” Morty narrowed his eyes at his drunk grandpa. Rick’s eyes transitioned from glazed and dead into a sharp, pointed stare as their faces grew nearer and nearer. Flustered at the sudden change, Morty spat out, “Wh-What do you even think you’re doing here, Rick? You’re-You’re so lu-lucky no one else sleeps on the second floor or else they all would’ve hear you-”

Rick watched his wrapped both arms around Morty’s shoulders and pulled him close, Morty now in between Rick’s legs and Rick leaning down to bury his face in the crook of Mortys neck.

“Rick, get off of me,” Morty shivered under Rick’s touch, his voice shaking and his knees weak. “I’m serious. I-I-I don’t want anything to do with you. You’re mean and selfish and you never care about anyone but yourself,” the younger kid let everything spill out of his mind, no longer caring if Rick would laugh at him later. Rick sighed and pursed his lips to trail kisses along Mortys neck and collarbone. Morty squeaked at the sudden contact of Rick's lips and tried pushing him away, using his hands to pry away his grandfather's head. 

"Y-you can't just be mean and expect me to sleep with you right after, Rick! I mean, I know that's how this used to work before but," The curly-haired boy's angry facade broke as another sob gave away Morty's true feelings. "I fucking hate you, Rick."

Rick knit his eyebrows together and moved a hand from Morty's waist to hold the crying boy's chin, tilting his head up. “I know, and I- I just..." He trailed off, unsure of how to console Morty in his state of tears. "I’m sorry. I just can’t-” Rick’s sarcasm had finally melted away, “-I just can’t let you get involved what I did at the jail. What I did to get out to see you.”

“What happened there?” The shower had enveloped the entire room in a musky steam, making Morty feel even more light-headed than before. But now, he could barely think straight with Rick pressed so close against him. His tears were still falling and hiccups threatened to overcome Morty's already rigid breathing. But Rick had never said sorry before, helping Morty recover from his fit as fast as possible. 

“I can’t tell you, just trust me, alright?” Rick murmured, his lips grazing against Morty’s earlobe. Morty’s breath hitched, his tight grip on Rick’s coat loosening, revealing wrinkles his hands left behind. The older man pulled back to look down at his coat and dryly chuckled.

“Wha-What’s with you and ruining my clothes?” Rick smirked and slipped off his coat to let it fall to the floor. With little difficulty, Rick had swapped their positions, perching Morty on the bathroom sink running his hands all over his grandson’s body.

“Wait, I still want to know-” 

Morty was cut off by his own moan as Rick hands slithered into his boxers not from the top but from where his thighs were. Placing his cold hand over Morty’s cock, Rick began rubbing against the boy’s sensitive skin, at first gently but soon rough and animalistic. 

“You’re pretty dirty here, your underwear’s gotten the back of my hand all sticky,” Rick laughed, allowing Morty to wrap his legs around Rick’s waist. Morty only hummed to answer, he had begun to lose himself in between the steam and Rick’s heavy panting.


End file.
